Violins
by Dark.Angel's.Muse
Summary: A violin is a sweet and sad sound. When Morgana disappears with a violin left at the scene, what does Darkwing do? Surely he would risk life and limb for her! That's what he is counting on. Rating may later change


**A/N: I really have no clue where to go with this. If this story suddenly stops, that means I exhausted all of my ideas.**

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The somber tones of a violin filled the already morbid air at the MaCawber mansion. It was a rare day that Morgana let her hair down, but she did today, so she had to tuck back her thick locks to look at the empty air: exactly where the music was coming from. "Dark? Is that you?" The only reply was the sweet sound of the violin.

Morgana took this as a yes, smiling sweetly into the empty air. "Dark, I didn't know you could play at all, not to mention this well!" Only more music came, flowing past her like a sweet and sad wind, twirling around her in a beautiful and sensuous caress. Morgana let the music sweep over her like the caress it was, leaning into an invisible touch. Bye the notes that followed, it was obvious that the song, despite how beautiful it was, was ending. It was like this for everything, even things that seemed immortal.

Morgana smiled into the air again. "Why don't you come out here and let me reward you for that beautiful song." Her voice was low and seductive and held a hint of a mocking smile.

There was silence for a few moments before suddenly, the violin screeched loudly. This sudden noise made Morgana jump and her heart rev. Yet it didn't stop there, the violin's music continued to screech out angry notes, flying out of the violin and swirling around her angrily. This was coupled by ten or more chanters, who seemed to be everywhere, but nowhere. Their words were harsh, quick, and pierced her like knives.

If one looked in the window, they would hear nothing and only see Morgana thrashing about madly. You enter the house, you hear the music, but still only see Morgana thrashing. If you were Morgana, all that I said would be literal. Your ears would feel like bursting, your skin would feel like it was cut with the sharpest of knives, your hair would be flying around you and you could only hear and feel terror. To any other, this would just be frightening music, as he would not be the target.

Morgana, with a scream of rage, threw her pale hands into the air, chanting her own spell. Lightning began to crackle across her fingers, dancing like a man on hot coals. Her baby blue eyes were rolling back in her head as she chanted slowly, ignoring the pain, but failing to ignore the terror. Her luck turned. When she was almost done with the chant, her magic left her without her permission.

She dropped her hands and herself on to the floor, exhausted and beat. Crying, she looked at her hands, broken into a thousand pieces, but still intact. The original song she had thought was Darkwing's composition played again, the absent chanters with it. This time, she could taste the threat in the air, like fire in a wind.

There was a rustle of robes from above her. Morgana kept her head down, not to show her tears. A cold hand gently placed itself on her chin, and lifted her face up. The witch froze in pure terror. "You... You..."

"I'm... I'm," a pure tenor voice stated in a mocking tone, sending waves of terror into the heart of Morgana.

~~~~~[][][][][]~~~~~

At exactly a minute past midnight, there was a loud and terrible scream from the MaCawber estate, followed bye a manic laugh. At this time, the newest neighbor called to report a strange noise from the MaCawber mansion. It was dismissed because of the numerous calls they got like this about the estate.

About half an hour later, they received another call, stating that a female voice was pleading for her life. There were loud crashes and thuds coming from the house, also. This was dismissed again, as it was still not out of the norm for the MaCawber estate.

At 12:46 a.m. the police station received another call, same as the others, only with that the classical music played and the Gregorian-styled chanting was insulting to the local Muslim community, which was down the street. This is what set the police officers off, as the community was at the far end of the street. They said that they would be sending officers to check it out.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at the MaCawber mansion. At this time, there were still the screams and the crashes and the chanting and the violin music. Upon opening the door, everything stopped. Warily, the police officers searched the entire mansion. Every room was neat and orderly, with nothing out of place. The final room they came upon was the study.

Even this room was orderly, but there was one thing out of place.

In the middle of the room was a white violin, looking neat and sparkling. The detectives took the violin to the local specialist, whom said it was the most expensive violin you could get and rare as rare could be, but all of them were accounted for in a museum. Despite this, the specialist stated it as exactly like the twelve originals in every way, down to the forest the wood came from.

There was a golden candelabrum next to the violin. It was recently lit, perhaps and hour ago by the level of dripping of wax. On the violin was a black envelope. It was sealed with pure white wax in the shape of a rose. The letter stated in elegant words that they should have come sooner. They might have saved her.

The writing was neat and copperplate. There was not a single spelling mistake or a single letter that looked different from the others of its kind. It was written in what was thought to be dark red ink, but was actually written in Morgana's blood, and signed only with one or two drops of blood they could not match up with anyone.

Also in the letter, the found a long gray lock of hair, also belonging to Morgana. It was kept together with another braided lock of her black hair, dipped in the same blood at the end of the letter. It was stated to deliver this to 537 Avian Way, but never was.

A week into the investigation, the violin was stolen from the vaults, despite it being under high security twenty-four hours a day.

A professional psychologist stated it was likely that this was the first in many kidnappings, especially with the lock of hair that was supposed to be delivered to that address.

It is yet unknown what happened that night and if the professional is correct. Perhaps it will never be known. Then again, a certain masked mallard might have the gall to find this out.

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**A/N: Alright, I made this into an RP for the source of ideas. I now am a little more confident about what may happen, but I'm still a little wobbly. Please review! :D**


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